


Killed by the King

by Blakpaw



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Betrayal, I altered Canon designs/looks/scars for story purposes, Jamie calls Mako fat at one point, Kingdome Au, M/M, Mako is in temporary denial about still being a softy, Murder, Slow Burn, Slow Updates, TBH he's kind of a dick in general right now, Trust Issues, and just to add some flare, at some point, being forced into shitty situations, criminals, lots of criminals, mentions of goring, mentions of past heart break
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-12 00:46:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12947655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blakpaw/pseuds/Blakpaw
Summary: Mako get's stuck in a shitty situation, that just can't seem to stop getting shittier.After trying to steal from the "true King", Mako is forced on the run, before being accepted into the arms of The Guild of Rats, where he finds a whole new bunch of shit to deal with to add on the list.





	1. Prologue

Mako never really viewed himself as a particularly bad man. Sure, he'd gotten involved in, even started a few, bar brawls, maybe stole the occasional fruit or loaf of bread, but he never really considered himself an extremely bad man.

But of course, desperate times called for desperate measures. He may be a big gutted man, but Mako was not a wealthy man. It was supposed to be an simple one time job, just him, a few other poor sods, and a plan. He was supposed to wait outside the treasury as the other two scurried around in side, collecting handfuls of gold and goods, whilst the last member of their party conducted a distraction.

It had backfired miserably, turns out the bloke who was meant to distract the guards had instead tipped them off, sent them rushing down the halls with clear preparation. Mako had bolted, had to go through a window to get out, thank the stars the treasury had been on ground floor. But, he’d had to leave his home behind, he was surely going to become a wanted man and just about everyone knew where he lived and who he was. It was not easy for a man his size to hide.

He supposes it was either sheer luck, or mercy granted on him from some divine source, but apparently a secret society of criminals were looking for a source of muscle, and he’d caught there interest a few weeks after the heist, several villages away and never planning to stay long. He’d been approached at a bar by a smaller man with wild brown hair, and unreadable blue eyes, a hood over his head and a bandanna pulled up over his face. He plunked down by Mako, wordless and with no effort, he slid something under Mako’s mug, gave him a nod and slid off. Confused and intrigued by the strange man, Mako lifted his mug and took the item, a very finely folded letter, from under his mug, paid the bartender, and left. Once outside he stepped out of public view and opened the letter, it was scrawled in scratchy handwriting, hard to make out in the dark, oil lantern lit streets, but manageable with some effort.

“We’re in need of a man like you, Rutledge. These past few weeks you’ve been gaining popularity with our crowd, big man like you leaves something to be desired for us. We, the criminals of this shit hole, would like you to be a bodyguard for some of the more important figures of our little den, for the right price of course.

If interested, burn this letter and follow the guide. You have until the sun begins to rise.  
Don’t disappoint,  
The Guild of Rats.”

Mako huffed a bit, his massive form stepping from the ally, glancing up and down the dirt streets, the only sight in the darkness the lantern lights from house windows and hanging in the open streets. Being cautious and slow, he steps towards one of the lanterns in the street, he’s tall enough to open it and stick the letter into the flame. Maybe it’s curiosity, or that deep seated human need for consistent shelter that made him do it, maybe it’s the promise of some form of payment, but by god this sounds like the best deal he’s going to get in his current position. He lets go, and watches the scrap of paper get eaten alive by the dancing flames, before closing the lantern and stepping away. The loud thunk to his left makes him flinch, and he spins fast on his heels taking a swing on reflex and… he hits nothing.

He glances down to see the man from earlier, crouching down under his fist, staring up at him, unperturbed, as he slowly stands back up silently nodding once again, before motioning him to follow and slipping into an ally. Mako only hesitates a moment before following, the journey eerily silent as he’s lead down a twisting, turning path, gradually getting farther and farther from the village.

The area he was lead to was a good distance from the humble placement, enough that no man would actually travel this far to search for something unless desperate, and yet close enough to have a good view of most the housing. It was close to a forest of pines growing mightily and high, and his guide lead him to a small cliff sticking up from the rest of the earth, littered with roots and rocks. The lithe man grabbed onto one of the roots and pulled as hard as he could, and much to Mako’s surprise, a door within the dirt began to slide open to the side, where his guide quickly nodded Mako in before darting after him.

It was extremely dark and cramped, Mako’s form bent at an awkward angle to fit, and for a moment he almost think’s he stuck, before shaking his head at the irrational thought, focusing on other parts of his surrounding, like it smelt mostly of earth, but he also picked up on the scent of something sooty. His guide is quick to produce a source of light, a small oil lantern lit by match. The deeper he went the stronger the smell of fire and ash became, soon, after minutes of walking down the winding path, when torches began to appear, the lantern was extinguished, and slowly the sound of conversation began to reach his ears.

The exit to the twisting path he’d been brought to was a simple cloth draped over a hole, and beyond it was an entire underground society. The people there were all in rags, homes made of sticks to prop up blankets, with pillows and clothes for bedding, set up in outcroppings on the walls, where people climbed up and down on rickety old ladders. The “houses” where circled around a gigantic fire pit, currently alight with a fire that looked ridiculously small in it’s huge diameter. There was music playing somewhere in the far reaches, and as he looked up he could see the roof the cave was opened enough to let the smoke filter out. Through the twisting confusion of the underground village, Mako caught sight of only one single door, rather forcefully jammed into the side of the dirt wall, held shut by several large wooden beams.

He had no time to ask questions, it seems, as he was dragged onward by his guide, deeper into the mass of people, the commotion and bustle of daily life died down as the inhabitants of this underground world stopped to stare at the newcomer among their numbers, and it became eerily silent once again as even the music stopped. 

His lithe guide lead him to a much more extravagant “home”, still made from blankets and cloth, but much more homely, looking more like a tent then a temporary covering. His guide steps forwards and pulls one of the blankets to the side, nodding for Mako to enter.

Mako had thought the corridor he’d been lead down earlier was cramped, but this tent was even worse, he felt if he so much as breathed wrong he’d bring the whole thing down on top of him. In his attempt to make sure he wasn’t going to destroy anything, he’s failed to yet notice the inhabitant of the cloth home. Taller than the rest, but still far from Mako’s height, he’s wearing a cavalier with a white feather, a red poncho of sorts wrapped around his shoulders, a lit, black pipe between his lips, a fine sort of beard and dark brown eyes. He clears his throat to catch Mako’s attention, his brown eyes locking with Mako’s, before he nods for him to take a seat.

It takes him a moment to lower himself to the ground without knocking anything over, and though it’s an improvement to standing, it’s still not the most ideal space for him. Such is the fate of a giant among men, he supposes. He tilts his head to the side, cocking a brow at the younger man before him, a silent question as to why he was brought specifically here. The younger man takes a long pull from his pipe, blowing the smoke to the side before leaning forwards offering his left hand for a shake, it's wrapped and bound tightly in bandaging and the fingers seem a bit twitchy. He offers a kind smile to go along with the extended hand “Name’s Jesse Mccree, pleasure t’ meet you.” he states kindly, tilting his head towards Mako. He reaches out to shake his hand, Jessie’s entire hand and wrist being engulfed by only half of Mako’s giant palm (which he could easily wrap around his entire forearm) and he shakes it with a low grunt “Mako Rutledge.” he mumbles out. Once the introduction is done, Mako puts his hand back down on the ground, still staring at him with a blank hard to read yet questioning face.

“As you read in that letter my pardner there gave you, you’ve been acquired for a bodyguard job of sorts, we always need some of those round here. I’m sure you’ll understand how this works, but you start off with the lower down big dogs, and make it up to the top, but to do that you gotta prove you’re loyal, and good at what you do.The Rat himself instructed me to tell you that you’ll be my bodyguard to start off with.”

“The Rat? The fuck does that mean?”

“Now you don’t go worrying about that quite yet,” he snapped back, leaving the atmosphere feeling a lot tenser for a few moments “you just forget I said anything about that for now, got it?” he points at him, brows lowered and hardened, clearly not worried Mako will try anything. In response he grunts and gives a shrug, letting it be know he really couldn’t give less of of a shit. He’s got other, more important things on his mind, anyways, like payment. Which, he’s quick to bring to question.

“Shoot, a man straight to the point. People like you round here, if you’re trustworthy’ enough, get far fast. Now we can’t, for very obvious reasons, pay you in money, but we got food, shelter, safety, and community. We also got weapons for people of your position, and a few bits of Armour we’ve managed to scrap together,” he chuckles a bit “not that we got any in your size, big fella like you!” he reaches out to pat Makos stomach, met immediately by a deep, low growl. Mcree pulls his hands up, a sign of truce and defeat “Now now, partner, no need to be so on edge! Just havin’ a bit of fun, yeah?”

The silence he’s met with is enough to make him sweat. He clears his throat, pulls at the cloth of the poncho around his neck and puffs out a small plume of smoke from the side of his mouth “Right, well, you’ll be stationed outside of my tent, and don’t you worry one bit, you’ll be given quarters close by, sure they’ve got somethin’ special arranged for you.” he offers a bit of a smile, tilting his hat “You’re escort from earlier ‘s waitn’ outside, he’ll take you to your new home. Welcome to the guild, partner.”

Mako gives a grunt in return, and slowly stands up, careful of the flimsy material making up this “house”, and steps outside. Sure enough, the blue eyed, half masked boy from earlier is there, and silently leads the giant of a man a few meters over to another home propped up on sticks with a cloth draped over it, dirty, dusty pink, placed with a goose feather filled, flat, moth eaten pillow on top of a bundle of brown, red patterned blankets. It’s not big, taller and wider than most others, but just barely enough for him to lay down and not cross into another “house”. With a deep, low sigh, Mako lays his head down on the flat pillow, pulls the not quite big enough scrap of cloth over himself, and settles in for the long haul.


	2. Murders and Promotions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First blood and a step up in the ranks.

Time passed at an agonizingly slow rate, Mako woke up every morning to the commotion of the underground society, only warm because of the perpetually burning fire in the center of the giant cavern, laying on the hard ground, many a morning since he’d arrived he’d find himself picking rocks from his skin and clothes where they sunk into the fat of his skin each and every night. Then, he’d carefully maneuver out from under his canopy, make his way to the tent of Mcree, and plunk down right outside and wait. And wait. And wait. And the hours ticked by, slow and drawling, filled with the noise of the community, watching people leave through the cloth covered hole, some days fifteen would leave at once, others only one or two. And though the opening to the cave was frequently used, in the three, uneventful, weeks Mako had been staying here he’d only seen that one single door door opened a handful of times, few people entered, and left the door just as alone as they went in. It was intriguing, yes, but he didn’t ask questions.

Everyday, without fail, when the sun would seep directly into the hole, a bell would be rung, and Mcree would come walking out, with papers and books in hand, and he’d walk towards the side of the “village” where the bell had tole, and Mako would follow. They served meals there, mostly soups, but once every week they serve a good catch of deer a few skilled marksmen caught out on a hunt. Though it may not be a big meal, it’s a filling one, and doesn’t actually taste bad at all. This is also one of the few times he watches the door be opened, the same man, each and every time, carrying a bowl of soup inside. Mako notes he sometimes leaves with it completely empty, but usually it gets turned back half empty, or completely full. Same would happen with the second bell when the night has completely fallen.

The question is always just on the tip of his tongue, but he has a strong feeling it’s safe not to ask, his inquiries will most likely go unanswered anyways.

If he was being honest, though, it was easy to forget these people here where all wanted, criminals and their families, forever outcast and banished by their actions building up a place, just for them, right down here in this cavern. These people, despite what they may think of each other, worked hard together to make this shit hole feel as close to home as possible.

But tonight he was reminded these people were murderers, thieves, and traitors under the king's cold, cruel eyes. Jessie Mcree and a band of five others, Mako included, had been planning a gigantic haul for months, to get food, drink, and clothes. His job was to protect Mcree, no questions asked. He would like to say it was simple, easy, but it wasn’t. Turns out word had spread a few criminals had been spotted running around, Mako included, and the guards were heavy in the streets.

Before that night, that moment when Mcree made one wrong move and was spotted by the armor clad twit, Mako had never killed a man in his entire life. It hadn’t been his intention, he’d just acted quick, meant to drag his attention away. He’d picked up a rock, and without sparing a thought threw it, and he supposes if he’d had just a bit more time to think he would remember all those lectures his mother gave him after all those bruises he gave his friends and family whilst playing, would've remembered he’s bigger and stronger than most men his age. The impact stuck the nights chest, bent the armor inwards towards his ribs, and he flew a good few feet into a wall with a sickening crunching, thud like noise. It didn’t take a genius to conclude the man was probably dead, Mako had been going into shock when Mcree hit his arm, drawing his attention away from his recent murder and towards his job.

He killed again that night, three others, the first time he’d crushed a man’s bones through armor had been an experiment in his strength, and a rushed attempt to dispose of him, and there was something sickeningly familiar feeling, something fitting, about using his hand to crush a man’s body, it was as if his hands were made to crush bone, to harm and maim. Mako felt as if he was made to kill, a weapon wrapped in flesh and blood.

He hated it.

He had the blood of another man on his hands, some on his chest, and a few droplets on his face, Mcree and his band carrying their haul home, celebrating among themselves. Mcree gave him a celebratory drink once they’d settled back home, and rationed out the meals.

“Wooho, let me tell you pardner, don’t think I’ve ever seen a man do that with just his bare hands!” he was talking to a younger girl, who was deep into his storytelling, he reaches over and put an arm on Mako’s back, which caused him to grunt in annoyance, Mcree is quick to pull his hand away. He, instead, placed his hand on the ground to lean a bit closer to her as he continued to talk “Watched ‘im with my own eye take up a man’s head, looked so small ‘n his hands, and just crushed it! Like it was nothin’!” Mcree laughs a bit “Shoot, s’ like someone went and put a beast in a man’s body, shoulda seen it.”

Mako growled deep and low “It ain’t funny. People died tonight. Ain’t somthin’ t’ be laughed about.” he turns to glare down at him and Jesse looks up, staring at him as if he had grown a third arm “The hell you talkin’ about?”

“I killed people, it ain’t funny.”

“Shoot, I never said it was, now get that log outta’ yer ass and celebrate!”

Mako snarls, bending the cup in hand as he clenches his fist “Murder isn’ worth celbratin’!”

“Now you lisen’ here pardner! Whatever your life was like before, it ain't like that now! You’re a wanted man and there's nothin’ you can do about it! Way the rest of us see it, what you did out there, it wasn’t murder. You did your goddamn job,” Mcree snapped, pointing at him “and it ain’t gonna be the last time you’re gonna have t’ do it either! Now if you want what we have to offer you, you sit down, shut up, and do your job! ‘Cus no matter how big you are, Rutledge, the Guild is bigger, and no matter how smart you think you are, the Rat is smarter. You remember that before you go off runnin’ your mouth ‘bout what we can and can’t do. If you don’t like what we do here, and you wanna leave, you’re welcome too,” he waves his arm towards the cavern opening “but let it be known, the Guild don’t take kindly to deserters.” Mcree turned to stand up, nodding for the others to follow and left Mako to glare at his back as he left. Mako himself didn’t wait long before heading back to his own abode.

He thought long and hard about what Mcree said, and honest to god it was the truth. He wasn’t, couldn’t be, Mako anymore. He was different tonight than he’d ever been before, and there was no way he was going back. Not if it meant giving up the life he was just barely starting to get together here.

And the months passed by, fall was quickly becoming winter, and Mako had been honing his skills down to the pinpoint they needed him to be. He spent hours trying out weapons they’d offered him time and time again, and the only thing he could settle on was a sickle and chain. There was something empowering about the sensation of hooking and dragging another man within reach with only one hand, only to crush his skull under the flat of one's palm.

He also grow closer with the community, learned the past of men and women alike who’d been on the run only to be taken under the wing of this mysterious figure known only as “the Rat”, akin to a king among them, a king who was to paranoid to leave his barracks. There are some who remember him from a time before he locked himself away, but only speak mere whispers of his past, only mentions of battles he’s fought, and his brutality. According to Mcree, what he was doing know, protecting him, and whomever else he may be assigned to in the future, was working up to him guarding the Rat, an extensive, on field training. He mentioned, once, that the man who brings the Rat his daily meals often filled him in on reports of his guard in training's progress, and how well he could be trusted.

He was sat by Mcree, eating his fill of today’s lunch stew, mostly consistent of water, the small amount of broth they could gather, and dried meat stored for the winter. He was listening in on the conversations near him, being wary of the number of people near them, and ready to spring into action if he need to. His gaze locks on instantly when the armor clad, darker skinned, man approaches them, he has hideous, disfiguring scars across most his face, looks much more like a knight with his posture and armor then a criminal, Mako instantly pins hims down as the man who brings the Rat his meals, and Mcree looks up at him with curiosity once he took note of his presence. The man offers a hand to Mako, who glances down before carefully grabbing it in his large hand, shaking it curtly before putting it at his side to support his weight.

“Names Gabriel Reyes, it’s nice to finally meet you, Rutledge,” he doesn't sound all that pleased really, “I’m the Rat’s eyes and ears around here. I’ve heard of, and seen, much of your work, and after much consideration and counselling, we believe you’re ready for a promotion.” he keeps his face blank, voice sounding empty and bland as he speaks to them. He waves to Mako’s bowl “Finish eating, and come find me, I’ll be by the door.” he states simply, before turning to leave, still holding himself proper.

“Th’ fock was that?” Mako rumbled once he was out of earshot. Mcree glanced up at him, and shrugged a bit “S’ Rat’s informant, he’s been around longer than most of the rest of us here, used to be a knight, obviously, but he’d go about giving the Rat information going on in the kingdom even before he was part of the guild. Used to be real close, he and the “true” king, they say, tell whatever it was happened.”

Mako frowned a bit, tilting his head “Bit strange ruler of criminals informant is an ex knight though, ain’t it?” to which Mcree shrugs again “He ain’t with the king no more. He was exiled for his betrayals a long, long time ago. Lotta the people here were once loyal to the king in some way or another, weren’t they? Shoot, even you musta looked up to him once.”

Mako shrugs a bit, he does have a point, years ago, stupid young Mako, twenty-something and in his prime, believed the king could help their little village, save it, he’d grown up far from the castle itself, in a village constantly overrun by bandits, and the king did nothing as his village burned and died before his very eyes. He lost faith in the king that day. He lost faith in a lot of things.

He finishes up his stew and hoists himself up to his feet, lumbering off towards the one and only door in the entire underground “city”. It was easy to spot Gabriel leaning against the dirt wall, his amour has so many scuffs, dents, and scratches but it looks sturdy, and has obviously lasted him many battle worn years. He straightens himself out, keeping his face blank, brown eyes cold and almost lifeless, he gives a bit of a nod, before motioning for Mako to follow. He opens the door, and steps inside, reaching on the ground to pick up an unlit lantern. Once he lights it, he begins to walk, Mako cautiously in tow. This path is much wider and taller than the first, still a little narrow for his size, still causes a very small twinge of claustrophobic panic, but he also notes there are more paths to take, twisting and turning into darkness, he tries to keep track of what turns they make and where they go but it’s to disorienting, to randomized. The smell down these halls is something much different than the sooty scent of the rest of this cave, it smells distinctly more like black powder, and he gets the lingering whiffs of rot every now and again. He catches a glimpse of a few bones, small, rodents, he wonder if maybe the smell of rot comes from fresher corpses hidden in the endless tunnels. Finally, he’s lead to another door, the smaller ex-knight stepping forwards, hanging the lantern above the door as he works on unlocking it, turning to look at Mako, eye serious and cold “Stay out here, I’ll come get you when me and Rat are done.” and with that he steps in and closes the door. His glimpse was extremely limited, but Mako could tell pretty quick the room was just as dingy and dim as the rest of this place, and he thought he caught the glimpse of skulls in the walls, but he couldn’t be sure.

He sits down near by and waits. Not much happens, but he can hear the muffled sounds of voices, but can’t make out what is being said. He can make out Reyes’ voice, but the second voice, higher and faster, he doesn’t know who it belongs too, but it’s not hard to draw the conclusion that it belongs to this “Rat”, the King of Criminals. He listen for a while, never making out words, but he can tell the topic seem serious enough. Eventually, Rayes steps out again, opening the door just wide enough to slide through before closing it, and nodding to Mako. He grabs the lantern from the top of the door and begins to lead him back down the way they had come.

“You are officially my bodyguard now, this job will not be as easy as your previous, many of my assignments are high risk and require stealth. Being caught means death. Many of our days will be spent traveling back and forth between here and the castle. At the castle, we will gather information, and let no one, and I mean no one, Rutledge, see you. Our missions are supposed to be casualty free. A randomly dead knight rises many questions. But, if we do get caught, and we if we do end up having to kill someone, we’re to hide the body and clean up as thoroughly possible in a short amount of time. Lastly, you will follow all of my orders every step of the way, as not only are they the orders of your boss but also orders implied by the Rat himself. Is all of this understood, Rutledge?” he keeps walking, brisk and cold as ever, not once glancing back as they head back down the twisting corridors. Mako gives a grunt of confirmation, which has Reyes looking over his shoulder, cold eyes hardened even more. He stops them walking to properly face him “Unlike Mcree I have not learned your signals for affirmation or denial. I prefer you use your words, Mr. Rutledge. Is that understood?” he asks Mako, as if he were a child. He narrows his eyes a bit, and speaks slow and in a deep rumble “Understood.” 

Unflinching and still with that blank look in his eyes Gabriel curtly nods “Good.” he turns and begins to walk again. He wastes no time in continuing his lecture “You best sleep sooner than later tonight, we leave early tomorrow, and when I tell you to get up you get up. Is that understood?”

“Yes.”

 

“Good. Now, these will be our shared quarters,” he hangs the lantern up on another door, a little flimsier than the previous one “I have arranged for a bed to be brought as soon as it can be managed. For now, I’ve personally moved your bed makings into the room. If you try and leave the room without me, Rutledge, I will not hesitate to take up my sword against you. Is that understood?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.” he opens the door, and steps aside to let Mako in. It’s a little more homely than the rest of the place, a large dome like shape in the dirt, lanterns, candles, and torches giving appropriate lighting, and a small fireplace with a hole far above it, reaching back into the sky to let smoke billow out. There’s a rather well kept book shelf against the left wall, as clean as it could get under ground, filled to the brim with writings, a desk and chair to the right wall with a ink, quill, and paper, and close to that is a proper bed, with only slightly moth eaten sheets. An armor stand is located near the bookshelf, currently bare as the articles are on its respective wearer, and several swords are hung above makeshift fireplace. His belongings are already cornered up, opposite side of the room as the bed, a good distance from the armor stand, bundled and carefully folded. 

He gives a bit of a grunt to himself before lumbering over to his things, carefully unfolding them and placing them out. Gabriel is quick to start speaking again “Feel free to read any of the books I have, just don’t ruin them, and be sure to tell me if you take any out of this room. Anything on the writing desk is to not be touched unless I have given you express permission to do so. Do not touch my weapons or armor unless given express permission too. If you want to light a fire be conservative of wood, and be ready to extinguish it, gets as hot as hell in here fast.” he states simply as he begins to un-clip his armor and place i on the rack. Mako nods in confirmation “Understood.” he grumbles, just to be a bit mocking. In return he gets a slight snort of exasperation before the smaller of the two sits down to work. Mako happily sits down on his spot on the ground,massive hands on his even bigger belly as he reclines against the wall.

He gets bored of watching him work fairly quick and grabs a book to read, and sits back down.

If he was being honest, this place was starting to feel like home.


	3. Mutts in the Den

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You know what they say about mutts, they're loyal to there masters.

“Get up, Rutledge. Finding horses to steal by sunlight is a lot harder than you’d think.” Rayes states, already dressed in armor, looming over the giant on his floor. He shoves his leg a bit with his boot. Mako groaned, but rolled over so he could put his arms under himself and get up. He admits, reading the entirety of a book well into the night was not his best idea, even after being told he’d get up early. But it’d been much too long since last he’d had a good story to entertain himself. He eventually gets up, taking the band off his hand and tying his hair up, before kneeling down to grab his sickle and chain, neither exchanging any words as Mako gets ready.

Once he’s fully got himself together, Reyes takes him back down the winding corridor, and out into the open. Immediately there met with the older woman that often serves food. She hands them each a bowl, and Ryes takes a sip whilst Mako grunts in thanks. Gabriel is quick to give her instructions after his initial sip of the stew, “Remember, leave the food outside his door, knock, tell him the food is there, and then leave. Return an hour later, no less than that, is that understood?”

The woman rolls her eyes a bit “This isn’t the first time we’ve done this, won’t be the last.” She points at him “I ain’t that old yet Reyes.” she gives him a yellow toothed smile and hobbles off. The shorter of the two early risers snorts to himself and guzzles his stew, Mako shrugs to himself and does the same. They’re quick to discard the bowls and head for the opening to the cave. By now, the path to the village is very familiar to Mako, even in the dim light of dawn, just as the sun begins to poke over the horizon.

Once making it to the closest barn, Mako makes note that these horses definitely aren’t big enough to hold his weight, he’s taller than all of them. Reyes, on the other hand doesn’t seem perturbed, and even seems to have planned for this as he takes several horses, two black Shire’s and two brown Belgian Draft’s and he hooks them up to a large wooden trailer, it has barrels and boxes on it, and he moves them around to make them taller before stepping aside.

“You’ll sit back here, act like cargo as best as you can, if we’re intercepted by guards I’ll handle them.” he took his armor off, passing them to Mako to bag them,and the protective layer he wore underneath, also given to Mako, without them he looked much more drab and commoner like, he pulled out a shawl from a hip satchel he had and placed it over his shoulders, up and over his head to hide his distinctive scars. He got on top of one of the black Shires, who were in front of the small chain, and waited for Mako to sit down and cover himself up, the boxes stacked in a way that easily hid his form. Once Mako was settled, Gabriel set the horses into a canter towards the kingdom. Mako would have fallen back asleep, but the loud creaking the cart kept making and the fact that he snores when sleeping made it seem like a less than ideal idea, so he sat with his large hands on his stomach in the dark space of his blanket covered hiding place. Slowly, it began to light up a soft off white as the sun rose, at least allowing him some sort of visuals, though it was minimal and all he really saw was boxes, barrels, and the woven covering over his head. He could hear the sound of the horses clicking away, occasionally he could hear the sound of other horse drawn carts going past, greeting being quickly passed between Gabriel and the stranger.

It took a long while, but eventually the cart stopped shuddering slightly with the uneven ground under it’s wheels, and he could hear footsteps approaching his hiding place. The tarp was lifted, Gabriel's ever stern face coming into a view to greet him, “We’ll be there soon, I’ll try to avoid a cart check, but I have a feeling it won’t be that easy. At the gate, there will be at least two guards, our goal is to take care of them as quickly and as quietly as possible, without killing them. Understood? After gathering the information we need we’ll retreat to a local in the town who knows the guild well.”

Mako nods, and Gabriel returns to his horse, stern faced as ever. The cart lurches for but a moment before being set into motion before coming to another halt. Mako can hear guards speaking with Gabriel, one mentions something about a search of his goods and Mako tenses as they walk closer. The tarps lifted, and without even thinking Mako swings.

The next twenty minutes or so rush by in a blur, sneaking in the castle, punching out a few guards, there’d been a moment of terror when he’d been separated from Gabriel, for an undetermined amount of time, before the ex knight found him and rushed him out of the castles gates, onto the cart, and dashing away without even bothering to hide him. The ride is bouncy, and he has no choice but to brace himself against the equally unstable crates and barrels, he catches Gabriel looking back at him a few times, jaw tense as he pushed the horses faster. Mako looked over his shoulder as well, but he makes no sight of any one flanking them.

After a few tense minutes they come up to a hut on the outskirts of town, it’s small, made of brown mud like bricks, and a thatched roof, a small brick chimney, it has one window, with no glass, and curtains hanging over it. Gabriel jumped off the the black Shire he’d ridden and slapped it’s hind quarters, watching it jolt and rush off, pulling it’s cargo and companions into a mad dash away. Gabriel turned to the door of the little hut, knocking out a quick, yet complex, rhythm. Barley a few seconds after the last note the door was opened a crack, an older woman's face coming into view, she takes a glance at Gabriel and Mako before opening the door and letting them in, quick to shut the door behind them. She blows out the candles, not yet speaking, ushering them away from the door, into a separate room, and down into a cellar via trap door, Mako gives a silent thanks to whoever's listening that the underground room isn’t to extremely small, the woman climbs down with them, closing herself in with them as she closes the door silently. Mako barely opens his mouth and gets a sound out when she shushes him, and so they sit, in silence, for what feels like forever, at some point the sound of thundering booms clatter against the ground, hooves if he’d have to guess. There are voices, metal clanking boots against the ground, the sound of furniture being moved around, door after door checked. They don’t seem to find evidence of life, and eventually, after what feels like decades, spent in tense silence, leave. The old woman, and Gabriel, do not yet move, they wait a few more beats, before slowly exiting the cellar. Mako fallows last, the two veteran criminals warily glancing from room to room, Reyes with a blade and the woman with a small wooden blowgun. Mako, following their lead, unhooks his sickle and chain, careful to not let the chain clatter loudly against the floor, hook like curve held steadily in his hand.

After searching the whole place they seem satisfied, and the grey haired woman slowly rearranges the furniture, opening the window and lighting candles. She has a nasty scar down the side of her face, hidden underneath and eye patch, and though she looks well aged there’s no tremble to her hands, she looks old but her demeanor speaks nothing of her age. Once done she turns to them and smiles gently.

 

“Why don’t we get some tea?” The question is mostly directed at Gabriel, and he gives a curt nod, sitting himself down. She slowly makes her way to a fireplace in the call of the house, working on getting the fire going before setting an, apparently already filled, kettle over the fire. She moves to sit by them as she waits for it to heat up, gently crossing her hands.

She turns to look at Mako, offering one of her frail looking hands, and he slowly reaches out to shake it, she seems pleased, if her gentle, motherly smile is anything to go off of. She gently retracts her hand, poised and regal, yet there’s something very... “Rat Pack” about her, he saw it in a lot of the other’s of the guild, a fire in her eyes, a spark.

“My name is Ana Amari, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr..?”

“Mako Rutledge.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Rutledge.” she smiles, tilting her head towards the still stern faced Gabe “I see you’ve already met my friend. Have you been with us long?” Mako shrugs and Gabe speaks up for him “A few months now, Rat’s… taking a risk at a new bodyguard, you know he gets with hands on training.”

A knowing look crosses her face and she nods softly, Mako swears he cans see a glimmer of something sad in her eyes. When she looks back up at Mako it’s with a motherly scorn, a look of protection in her voice, and she points accusingly at him, “Once you get there, once you’re his bodyguard, you treat him right. That boy deserves a break, been through to much, and if you so much as think about hurting a hair on his head so help me, you’ll be begging every god in our known history to save your skin.”

Mako tries not to be to off settled by the sudden shift in her mood, and he grunts in affirmative and a curt nod. He doesn’t understand what’s all this shit with the “Rat”, he gets he’s a leader for the guild, but the looks of pity he sees when people speak of him, or the fact the “Rat” has yet to make any sort of appearance since his arrival makes him… un easy. As far as he’s aware, in these past few years, Gabriel’s the only one to have face to face contact with this mysterious leader figure.

The tense silence falls over them again, broken by the screeching of the kettle, dragging Anna from her seat, making them each a cup of tea. After a while of Gabriel and Ana passing news back and forth, Gabriel makes them all meals, and when night falls they get ready for bed. Mako doesn’t fall asleep, Gabriel ordering him to guard as they slept, ready to wake them at any sign of suspicious behavior.

His shift is uneventful, and boring, and eventually the sun rose, and with it his companions. He’s tired, but he’s spared a sleepless day when Gabriel retrieves a new set of horses and a cart. Mako falls asleep in the back, sure his neck will protest later, but he needs to rest whilst he can.

He’s jolted awake by a sharp jab in the neck by two a Gabriel fingers, and his first reaction was to swing, luckily Gabriel was expecting it and managed to narrowly avoid getting his head smashed like a melon. He sneers a bit, not to happy his bodyguard fell as sleep, but he makes no comment. Instead he just motions him up, walking towards the hidden entrance to the guild. He fallows close, until, once again, they reach that second door in the twisting, confusing corridor that lead to the Rat’s chamber.

For a few minutes everything seems calm, he leans against the wall, arms crossed in a relaxed kind of way, waiting, still a little drowsy from his sleepless night, but managing. He’s jolted completely awake when the door jolts, and there the most annoying, haggard, screeching he’s heard in his life, he can heard something being dug into the wood, sharp and metallic. His first reaction is to grab his sickle and chain and rush at the door, his hands find purchase, some how, on the wood, and he pulls with all his might. With the door, successfully removed, the screaming and shouting grows louder before the sound of something heavy hits the ground. Mako looks down and the first thing he sees is Gabriel’s back, he second is the man under him.

He’s lithe, a long, sleek muscles bulge under pale, freckled skin, one of his legs, from the knee below, is replaced by stiff wood, the other is bound in bandages, and he has not shoe on his foot, just more cloth wrapping, he has, what could be called, an old tattered cape around his shoulders, his hair is blond and wild. Running down the left side of his long, gaunt face, is a scar, that passes through his eye, which appears to be wider, and a little more unfocused, then he right, speaking of his right, on the end of his right arm, were the wrist should start into the hand, is instead a sharply angled, pointed hook, with a barb at the base. Currently, said hook is caught on a blade, held over his face, his lips pulled back in a disgusting snarl, his other hand wrapped around the wrist trying to plunge it down.

His stuning amber colored eyes shoot up to look at Mako, and he grunts, voice high and scratchy as he shouts at him “GET THIS MOTHER FUCKER OFF ME! WE NEED TO LEAVE, HE’S WITH THEM, A FUCKING MUTT, A FUCKING DOG FOR THE ROYAL, SHOULD'VE NEVER TRUSTED YOU!” he snaps, mid way through turning back to Gabriel, trying to knee at him with his flesh leg. Mako needed no further prompting to swiftly yank at the back of Gabriel’s shirt and toss him. The lithe man scrambles to his feet, extremely quick and agile for someone with only one knee. He turns to head down the path Mako had come from before quickly pushing Mako into the room he’d just escaped.

Mako doesn’t have time to appreciate the disturbing decor of rat like skulls carved into the wall along the whole length of the room, and he gets a glimpse of the wooden, eccentric, rotten smelling throne before he’s being pushed into yet another corridor. He runs, not entirely sure what’s happening, but he doesn’t have time to think, and before to long he can hear armored boots clanking into the echoing tunnel. He looks over his shoulder and picks up the pase, picking up the hobbling, haggard man, that he’s going to assume is the Rat. There are guards, dozens of them, rushing down the hall towards them.

Rat doesn’t take to kindly to being man handle, he thrashes and screams, bur Mako runs on, the corridor is a straight line, and exit tunnel, and if they’re lucky no one’s on the other side. Considering Gabriel’s position, previous to his sudden betrayal, he doubt they’ll be that lucky. And yet some how they are, he makes it into the opening, carelessly shouldering down the door, he had no time to fumble with the door knob, and he’s about to keep charging when that sharp hook digs into his arm. He drops him on instinct, hissing at the sudden sting, his head shoots down to look at the rat, and he catches him chucking something into the gaping hole where the door once stood before he runs. Mako glances at the door, before quickly fallowing, and not a few second later there’s a defining boom that shakes the earth, and he feels rocks and dirt pelt against his back, they’re hot and sting when they make contact, but he pushes on, following the heavily limping form of the, supposed, leader of the Guild of Rats.

They run on and on, they reach thick brush, and Mako has to struggle, to really push himself, to keep up. The forest comes to a very sudden stop in a clearing. It’s nowhere near as impressive as the stretching, underground, cavern of the, apparently, now previous, living place for the Guild, but it still is one hell of a sight, the trees huge holes carved into them, like giant worms had eaten tunnels in them, a small number of people, minuscule compared to before, travel in them, and eyes are quick to turns towards them as they break from the foliage, the insane form of there “king” and the giant bulking form of Mako interrupting the quite air.

The long, thin man takes a moment to stretch up, bent back popping, and he looks at the many faces, staring at him with worry, and his breathing slows, and his raises his keen voice high and says, with deep sorrow and burning anger, “The den has fallen to the greedy paws of the mutts.”


	4. The Weight of a King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mako tries to not have a soft spot, Rat does something just a little kind.

The grieving was short lived, a brief wave a murmurs among them, but silence is quick to fall when the dirty, haggard, form of of their leader raises his hook, the sight is mesmerizing how so many eyes turn to one measly, under dressed, dirt covered, slightly crazed looking, man, all prompted by one single motion. It’s as if his being there makes the pain of there loss worth it, and he supposes maybe it is, with all the stories he’s heard thus far, which aren’t many, and are only vaguely detailed, but the tales speak of the Rat staring down the king, with nothing but his own hand and a sword. Even if those tales aren’t true they certainly imbue power, and in that way he is still important to the recovery of a devastating loss like this.

He speaks again, voice still high and keen, but a little more sultry with a serious tone, eyebrows set low and lips pulled in a partial snarl, “This ain’t the first time we’ve lost our place to call home, an’ if that bloody fucking shit head at the throne of this forsaken kingdom has any say it won’t be the last. Now, I know it ain’t goin’ to be an easy loss, lost a lotta good people in there, I’m sure, but Rats multiply fast. We head out, find any measly drongo who’s committed the peatiest crime, an’ we rebuild our numbers. If I have any fucking say about how this is going to go, by the end of the year we’ll have a fully functioning army ready to retaliate. For now, all of ye pack yer bags, only essentials. We leave in thirty minutes, an’ leave no trace of where we’re goin’. We ain’t coming back here.” he pauses, his amber eyes flicking from face to face, before he snaps “WELL WHAT ARE YE WAITING FOR!? MOVE, MOVE, MOVE!!” He flails his arms and people scurry away into the giant trees they made their homes in, in a mad dash to grab what they need.

Those eyes are quick to dart to Mako, the hook swings out, catches onto the shirt, and he’s sure the little shit meant to pull him down, but instead only pulled himself up, he manages to not tremble, face stern and cold as he gets close to Mako’s face, that bug eye seems to have a slight more twitch than his right, and he snarls at him. He supposes if he were a lesser man the sharp teeth and glinting gold would have intimidated him, but he’s seen much worse than this twerp.

His voice comes out like the sound a snake makes when it moves on the ground, not the hiss, but the drag, his nose almost touching Mako’s “Make no mistake, I don’t trust a single hair on yer body, not a one. But, I don’t got much of a choice, do I? You were intended to be me bodyguard in the first place. I suggest, though, ye tell me the truth, and only the truth. Did ye know about Gabriel Rayes’ plan?” In lieu of a verbal response Mako huffs and shakes his head. The scowl deepens on the smaller mans face, another quick twitch somewhere in his muscles, his eyes narrow as he stares for an uncomfortably long time in Mako’s eyes, before he lowers himself, tugging his hook from the cloth of Mako’s shirt, quick to push it to his throat instead.

“I’ve got some ground rules fer ye. Ye don’t do shit unless I tell you too, you don’t talk t’ anybody until I tell ya too, you don’t talk to me until I talk to you, you never leave me line of sight, ye don’t touch me food, or me clothes, or anything else that’s mine or that I’m intendin’ to grab, unless I tell you to. You don’t go to sleep after me, you go down before me, and you address me as Rat, got it?”

Mako grunts out of the side of his mouth, and the Hook moves away after a moment, those quizzical eyes still fluttering over him. Eventually they find his face again, scrunching his nose “Got a name better than Mako? Not a very scary name, mate, sounds soft, like a flower.” he scrunches his face a bit, and it’s Mako turn to feel his brow twitch, face twisting into a scowl, and he leans down until he’s eye level with the little brat in control of the guild, and his voice comes out in a deep, angry, rumble.

“Mako is a type of shark.” he pulls his lips back to show his own threatening, huge teeth, canines seeming to catch the light just right to get the brat staring at the gigantic teeth for an equally gigantic man. He stands back up with a satisfied huff, Rat itching at his arm mumbling, before addressing him again, sharply, “Doesn't mean it don’t sound like a flower. Get a fuckin’ nickname or what ever, ain’t gonna have my bodyguard's name making me think of fucking roses.”

He stares at him as he walks away, and Mako fallows, a little dumbfounded if he’s honest. Of all the people that’s ever stood up to him he never expected a scrawny little shit like this who may be tall but is thin and wiry, and missing half his limbs. Yet, in all his forty-eight years he’s the first man to ever stand up to him, and he snorts a bit, causing that head to snap up and stare at him untrustingly.

This is going to be one hell of a time.

___________________________

They say there’s nothing like watching an entire herd of animals crossing the continent to find a new home, be it by air, land, or sea, because for as far as the eye can see hundreds of identical masses travel as one, all heading the same way. The mass migration of humans is not beautiful, it’s sad, because humans, unlike many species of animals, settle themselves into a home and expect to keep it forever. Yet, as Mako looks over his shoulder at the masses of people moving along behind the guide of a lurching, hunched over man he sees no sadness, they talk among each other, as if they had not just lost their home, their friends, maybe even family. He realizes he’s not sad either. He’s determined, determined to keep pushing, to make it to the other side into whatever new home the Rat had in mind, determined to tear down Gabriel and the King. He clenches his fist, teeth grinding as he walks on, the Rat by his side, eyes constantly flicking to watch him.

He knows he doesn’t want to win, to make Gabriel pay, because it’s his job to follow the Rat’s orders, he wants to win because the system is corrupt. If the system worked right none of them would be here, none of them would be running for their lives, they wouldn’t have to steal or kill or lie to get through life. He knows some people lie, kill, and steal because they can, not because they have to, but him? Mako turned to crime to survive, so that the could have a meal in his stomach, so that maybe he could get a proper house and farm again, and begin to live his life instead of just simply surviving.

He looks back again, at the masses of people, he saw kids, he saw the elderly, he saw teenagers, he saw single adults, he saw parents, couples, friends. He saw a family, all blindly following the hunched, dirty form of some scared up fool. Looking back at Rat he knows why he’s following along with them so compliantly, without hesitation, or complaint. Because, though the Rat himself is a criminal, he’s fixed the system. No one here needs to starve, no one needs to go cold at night, or worry about not having a roof over their head, or that their opinions will not be heard or might be ignored, they don’t have to worry about being rich or poor, because here, among the guild, there is only the Rat, who, from the stories he’s heard, earned his title among them, and then there's them. There is no noble men, no man eats more, no woman eats less, no child is forgotten, no adult deemed useless. Here, they are all equal, they are all heard, deemed important, under the gaze of the Rat.

And that? Right now, that is why he fights, for a world where that can be said true everywhere they go. He fights so that people like them no longer need to exist out of necessity rather than want. He fights so crime becomes a choice, not a last resort.

He doesn’t realize he was internally monologueing the entire march through the trees until the Rat announced they take a break, instead of the dense, noon lit, forest he remembered running into he finds that a stretch of plains extends out in front of him, the sun closer to the horizon rather than it’s apex, in the distance there are mountains reaching for the sky like thick, misshapen, claws grasping for the sky. The people spread outwards, in the middle of the mass of moving bodies he and Rat stay in place, the leader of the guild glancing over his followers, and Mako realizes he’s doing a headcount, checking there numbers, and he vaguely wonders if the Rat could even keep track of how many people they left with. Once contented with his conclusion, the lithe man turns to a group of younger men and sets them off to get supplies for a fire, next sending out a group of bored looking teens to find material to make temporary shelters, and yet another group of women to go out and gather food, group after group is given orders, temporary guard duty, cooking, building, looking out for the unwell, and so on and so forth, and within a few minutes the whole field is alive with people preparing to camp for the night.

For a moment it seems Rat forgets he’s there his whole body slumps for a moment, like the weight of the entire population of the Guild of Rats has suddenly landed on his shoulders, and a part of Mako, the same part that had the monologue, the one who would of been sick at the mere idea of blood on his hands, realizes this man carries the weight of every success and failure, every life, every death, and every responsibility on his lithe shoulders. Mako doesn’t know how old Rat is, he looks old, weathered and age, but with that much stress weighing down on his shoulders for years Mako can only imagine the horrors it could put one man's mind through. But that’s not his job, his job is to protect the Rat from death, not to care if he’s mentally stable or not. So instead, he crosses his arms, pulls his eyes away from the rat, and looks at the reaching peaks of the distant mountains.

By nightfall they have a small camp set up, and everyone fed a meal. The camp is so much smaller than the original “den” he first set eyes on, families huddle up together under small little rectangular forts made from branches and pine needle coverings, the camp is split into circular shaped sections, each has a fire in the center with almost equal distances from the fire so the warmth can be shared by all. Normally a leader would ask for a bigger living space, something special, instead he picks a random on with now special placement or meaning and lowers himself down, grabbing tattered cloth from his hip satchel. Mako begins to look through his own bag, tossing out the armor Gabriel had given him from there “mission” tossing it carelessly aside. He’ll pick it up and sell it later, after all, as Rat said, leave no trace. He finds the blankets he’d used when he first arrived and lays down, just outside of the fort, covers his mass as evenly as possible and turns to watch the fire. He can hear stories being passed from neighbors, meaningless chit chat, observations made during the travel, meaningless drawl passed from person to person. Somehow, it manages to lull him to sleep.

___________________________

The next morning the camp is roused by the scent of breakfast being prepared, a quick meal is had, and they set off walking again, headed towards the mountain peaks on the horizon. Rat mumbles to himself most of the way, occasionally stumbling when his peg slips into a moles nest or when the slowly thickening grass seems to wrap around it, his hook needing to be yanked free as the grass gets taller the further they go. Each time he reacts to catch him when he trips, to help free him he gets a snarl, the swiping nails of his flesh hand and a violent “back off” in return. It begins to agitate him, and eventually he begins to give rumbling growls in return. He doesn’t care who the Rat is, he’s not going to let some bean pole be needlessly rude.

By the end of the day both of them are tense and tired of the others presence, the mountains only seem barley closer, though the forest is much smaller, once again they set up dens from the materials of there previous camp. Once again Mako sleeps outside.

___________________________

They’re three days into travel and the Mountains have grown much closer, only another day or so before they reach their destination. The tensions between him and Rat only grow, no a word passed between them other than rats spiteful growls whenever Mako makes a move to help.

The night has fallen once again, the camp being rebuilt for the night, and Mako is just beginning to settle in when the sudden roll of thunder rumbles across the land, jolting him awake. Eyes turn up to the sky, and before long the rain starts pouring down, everyone is quick to huddle inside there forts and out of the rain, except for Mako. He sits outside, because the Rat has made it clear he doesn’t want to share sleeping quarters with Mako even if his life depended on it. He grumbles, sits himself up and pulls the blanket over his head. 

He’s already shivering from cold by the time the fire goes out, and the rolls of thunder seem to have no intent of ending quite yet. His eyes look upwards to the clouds, and it doesn’t seem to plan on ending soon. Eventually, he hears a gruff grunt and then a sigh, he hears shuffling in Rat’s fort before his head pokes into the vision of the corner of his eyes, “Oi, get yer fat arse inside, don’t need you catching focking death and slowing us all down. Fockin blanket ain’t enough to keep no one warm in piss weather like this!” He pulls his own head inside, and it takes considerable effort but eventually Mako squeezes his way in without breaking anything. Rat pulls out a portable lamp and lights it, mumbling something about heat under his breath. It takes awhile, but in the cramped, mostly closed off, space eventually the little oil lamp warm him up, he’s no mean dry by the time he gets to sleep but he feels considerably less in danger of getting pneumonia. As he lays his head down, he looks at Rat, face stern and blank, before rumbling a deep, quick, “Thanks.”

“Shut up an’ go tha fuck to sleep.” is all he gets in return.

___________________________

They make it to the mountains two days later and then the real work begins. For another two days the search for the beginnings of a base, they settle on a well hidden foxes den and start up digging, making sure it’s wide enough for every last member of the guild, Mako included, and then they begin to dig deeper. There camps becomes less temporary, they’re smart enough to not build their entire town underground, they scale up the trees and mountain, finding caves in the stone and carefully starting to carve the green wood of the forest. Just a few miles from the home they have now is a town, a place to, hopefully, find new members for the guild. Whilst most party members build, dig, and carve Rat plans, he talks about blueprints, defenses, he spends hours in a little temporary pine leaf base. Mako’s never allowed inside, he has no clue what the Rat does in there, and the words between them are still very sparse. Mako’s okay with that. After all, it’s not his job to worry about Rat’s mental state.

And yet, as he sits those long hours in the day with nothing to do but think and pick at the earth he often times finds himself wondering how old the Rat is, how long he’s been in charge. He can’t stop seeing the image of the Rat’s shoulders slouching under the invisible weight of an entire community weighing down on him.

So he continues, day in and day out, to tell himself he doesn't care.

He doesn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A doodle of what Kign Crim Jamison is supposed to look like: https://trash-den.tumblr.com/post/168345705701/his-proportions-arent-my-best-but-here-we-have#notes

**Author's Note:**

> I kept telling my self I would finish this and then post it, but then I finally got to the scene where I added Jamie and I just got too exited. Been working on this for fucking _months_.


End file.
